The very thing that I love's killing me and I can't conquer it

Ptarmigan was, as always, up to no good.

She had found yet another pack hidden away in a private location, and once more, she had crossed their borders with little regard for them. Her daring was in full force, but she had heard the rallying call of presumably the Alpha as she was climbing the squat mountains from the outside. She had also heard a strange response, the sound of a monster in anguish, and curiosity drew her in.

With the belief that the pack was gathering and would not be tending their borders with much thought presently, the dark-furred Endore slipped into their forest unnoticed. The dominant scent on the outskirts of the territory belonged to a bitch, though the howl that had brought the pack together had been much too masculine for any female wolf. Perhaps they were in the middle of a coup.

It appeared that she wasn't terribly far off, for Ptarmigan had found the river and, as was natural, followed its curving through the territory. It wasn't long before she came across the former Alpha in all her (un)glory, frothing at the mouth and staring blankly into the river. The Endore froze in her path as a pair of lost eyes found her, and the beast gave a grunt, followed by a heave and ragged gasping.

“What are you,” she asked, with her nape lifted into a fearful ridge of silver-tipped hairs.